


You Used To

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Halloween, M/M, librarian!Stiles, teacher!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:37:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5120312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek tries to prove he can be fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Used To

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5c9AOEsx2U).

Derek has been a teacher at Beacon Hills High for three years now. In those three years, he’s become somewhat known for being a stick in the mud. He makes his students work throughout homecoming week, struggles to keep them focused before any big holiday break, and he never participates in any school wide activities. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to have fun—because he does! He so does! Just ask…well, never mind.

Derek really can’t remember the last time he did something just for the hell of it. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him. He’s dedicated to his work—married to it if you ask his sister Laura—and he’s okay with that. But a certain cocky smirk, one belonging to the school librarian, haunts Derek’s thoughts as he looks at the clothes in his closet.

Mr. S joined the BHHS staff in the middle of last year, when the previous librarian, Mrs. Unger, suddenly resigned to sail around the world with her husband. Derek remembers their first meeting, how he had embarrassed himself when he went to the library that morning to return a book he found laying in the hallway. Mr. S had been standing behind the librarian’s desk, thumbing through _The Zombie Survival Guide_ and Derek had mistaken him for a student with his tousled brown hair and too big glasses.

When he had asked Mr. S, rather tersely, what he was doing behind the desk and what class he should have been in, Derek had been given that same crooked smile.

And now Derek stood in front of his closet, thumbing a grey knot sweater, recalling the conversation he had had with Mr. S yesterday.

_“So, what’s your costume gonna be?” the librarian asked._

_Derek looked up to see Mr. S leaning in the doorway of his classroom, Iron Man messenger bag slung over his shoulder and hands in the pockets of his khakis. This had become a thing the last few months. The librarian would come to Derek’s classroom after school everyday and chatter away as the history teacher attempted to grade papers. It was no use though. Derek always found himself too distracted by the other man and his wild gesticulations to do much grading._

_“My what?” Derek asked, briefly looking up from the somewhat entertaining but entirely inaccurate paper on the War of the Roses he was trying to power through._

_“Your costume? Halloween is technically on Saturday, but they made the announcement today? Friday anyone—including staff—can wear costumes so long as they comply with the dress code? Remember that, big guy?”_

_Mr. S had moved to sit on the desk directly in front of Derek’s. His impossibly long fingers tapped a steady rhythm over the stretched out fabric over his thighs. Derek stared a beat too long until he managed to snap his eyes up, just in time to catch the smirk start to tug at the corner of the librarian’s mouth._

_Derek thought back to the announcements made over the loudspeaker this morning. “I don’t dress up,” he replied after a beat._

_Mr. S spluttered. “Don’t dress up?” He pulled at his already tousled hair. “Don’t dress up? Mr. Hale, you_ have _to dress up! It’s Halloween! Have you no holiday spirit?”_

_Derek tried to ignore the shiver that ran up his back at being called “Mr. Hale”. He and Mr. S had not once called each other by their first names. Unusual for colleagues, yes, but it had become their thing, much like Mr. S coming to Derek’s classroom every day and hanging around until they both left school for the day. It had nothing to do with the fact that Mr. S’s first name was entirely too many letters and Derek was afraid of mispronouncing it and offending the other man. And Derek got a secret thrill every time Mr. S said his name. Something about the way he said it made it sound vulgar, like a prayer and a promise all at the same time. It drove him crazy—one of the many things about the librarian that did._

_Derek gave him a dry look from where he sat bent over his desk. “Holiday spirit refers to Christmastime, I believe. And no, I don’t have any_ spirit _now or any other time.”_

_Mr. S barked out a laugh, loud and beautiful, like the man himself._

_“What’s your costume then?” Derek asked, if only to shift attention from himself._

_And there it was. That smirk that he’d been fantasizing about since their first meeting in the library._

_“Me? I’m gonna be the very best.”_

Derek is still confused as to what he meant by that, but there had been that mischievous twinkle in his eye—the one that meant he was confident in whatever he had planned. Derek kind of wished he had that confidence, to just do something spontaneous. Mr. S had had him questioning his routine since he started coming to Derek’s classroom and asking him if work was _all_ he did _all_ the time.

Derek likes his routine. It’s familiar. Safe. But maybe, he thinks as he takes the sweater from the rack, maybe it’d be okay to do something fun. Just for one day.

And that’s how Derek finds himself standing in front of all of his classes in a grey sweater, grey sweatpants, and the tan work boots he found buried in the back of his closet. His students had all shuffled into the room throughout the day, the familiar half-lidded, zombie-like stare of tired teenagers on their faces. Their exhaustion had quickly faded into confused chatter, however, as they took in his appearance, which deviated from his strict wardrobe of sweater vests and dress pants. But so far, no one had figured his costume out.

“You’re Drake!” Erica shouts from her desk in the front right corner of the room.

It was the best costume he could put together in such a short amount of time. Cora had been sending him screenshots of the Hotline Bling music video in response to his texts for the last week. It just made sense at the time.

He regrets his rare moment of spontaneity now, however, as his class starts shouting at him to do the dance. He gives them a nervous smile. He was not expecting this.

“You have to!” Isaac yells from the back of the class. “It’s part of the costume!”

He’s soon berated by a chorus of “You have to!” and “It’s your costume!” If this goes on much longer, his class will be completely unsalvageable. See, this is why he doesn’t participate. It’s all just chaos and distraction. He’ll be lucky to assign homework by the end of class, much less get through his lesson.

“Okay, okay,” he placates. He holds out his hands until the class quiets down. “I’m only doing this once, so make sure you send video proof to the rest of the school, because this is not happening ever again.”

Just like that, thirty cell phones fly into the air, every camera trained on him. He laughs again, not quite believing what he’s about to do. He takes a deep breath and walks over to his laptop, pulls up YouTube. He thinks, for a moment, about refusing to do it. He could. He _is_ technically the authority here. But, then again, there’s nothing quite as terrifying as a room full of unsatisfied teenagers.

He types in the title of the song into the search bar. Mr. S comes into his thoughts yet again as he hesitates. He imagines the other man calling him by that nickname he gives anytime Derek says no to anything. “Sourwolf” echoes in his mind. Screw it, he thinks, he can be fun. He totally can.

He presses play on the video and positions himself so his left side is facing his class. He does an awkward attempt to move his arms, trying to keep beat with his foot, but the laughter of his students has him straighten his posture and laugh too. He feels absolutely ridiculous, but his class is earnestly encouraging him to try again.

“Embrace your inner Drake!” Boyd shouts from the desk beside Erica’s and, all right, Boyd speaks once in a blue moon. It’s been Derek’s struggle all year to get that kid to say more than two words in class discussion. If this is what it takes to get all his students involved, why not run with it?

He tries again, and this time he’s more on beat than the first. He bounces a few times to the song and then steps to his right. He dances as best he can, and by the cheers of his students, he’s doing pretty well. Derek gyrates in a circle, wide grin on his face, and means to turn to look at his class, but movement in the hall outside the room catches his eye.

Mr. S is stopped dead in the hallway, messenger bag in his hand. He’s dressed in blue jeans, a green shirt, and a blue jacket with a red and white hat smashed down over his untamable hair. Derek straightens up and tries to brush off what he just did. But he takes in the complete disbelief on the other man’s face and decides to keep going. He’ll show Mr. S how fun he can be.

So, with the song still blasting through the speakers, Derek bends his knees and works his way to the door, trying to keep his body as low as possible while still moving with the beat. Mr. S is still paralyzed, but his bag slips from his fingers and to the floor. Just as Derek reaches the door, he gives one last punctuated sway of his hips and then turns and stands to dance back to his computer.

“I don’t know what else he does,” he says to his cheering, laughing class as he pauses the video. He shrugs just as the final bell rings. His class immediately starts packing up their things and making to leave his class. They shuffle past him, some offering high fives, others (like Erica) blowing wolf whistles. Boyd actually gives him a fist bump.

As the last student walks through the door, Derek realizes he didn’t even assign any homework. He curses under his breath and immediately starts to think about how he can work the assignment into next week’s lesson.

There’s a small rap on his door and he looks up to see Mr. S leaning in his usual spot. Derek had almost forgotten about him, as distracted as he got by his lesson planning. He raises his eyebrows in question, trying not to think too hard about how he had just danced for the librarian.

“Now that, uh,” Mr. S trails off, fiddling with the strap of the bag he had picked up from the floor. He isn’t quite meeting Derek’s eyes, which the teacher finds odd. Mr. S usually isn’t afraid to meet anyone’s glare—not even that of Mrs. Martin, the terrifyingly headstrong principal.

“Can I help you?” Derek asks, if only to speed things along so he can get to his humiliation sooner.

Mr. S _squeaks_ —honest to god squeaks—and pulls on the hem of his shirt. “Those were, uh, quite some moves you got there.”

Derek feels his cheeks heat up, suddenly nervous again. The confidence he felt in the moment is completely gone under the gaze of the man he’s been secretly crushing on for over a year. He had been trying to show that he could be a fun person too, but what if he just looked stupid? What if Mr. S found his little display to be pitiable instead of awesome, the way his students had told him it had been? Was he really just making it so the other man wouldn’t be able to ever take him seriously at all? It would be Derek’s luck that the time he tries to impress someone he likes he really just made that person think him a giant fool.

Mr. S shuffles when Derek doesn’t say anything. He just wants to gather up the papers he has yet to grade and rush home to wallow in his shame alone. He’s such an idiot, really. There’s no way Mr. S would ever be into him now, if he even had a hope in the first place. He just cemented his place in the librarian’s brain as a giant tool, he knows it. He totally failed.

“There’s this thing tonight,” Mr. S spits out suddenly, color creeping up his cheeks.

Derek gives him a blank look. “So..?”

“So… I was wondering if you wanted to go? It’s totally chill—” he interrupts as Derek opens his mouth. “Just a few people at a bar, mostly school staff. You don’t even have to stay that long if you don’t want to.”

“And you want me to go?” Derek clarifies. He knows a lot of the teachers and office staff get together on Friday to unwind with a few drinks, but they stopped inviting him after a few months because he turned them down every time.

“Well, I was kinda hoping you’d go, maybe, with me?” Mr. S tales off his hat and starts running his fingers through his hair. Derek tracks the movement with his eyes. How many times, now, had he wondered how those hands would feel running through _his_ hair?

“You want me to go with you?” He didn’t really understand. He had just made a fool of himself but Mr. S was still inviting him for drinks? Maybe his dancing hadn’t really been as bad as he thought.

Or Mr. S was a _really_ charitable person.

“Yeah, it can be like a date thing. Or not! It can be totally platonic. But, I gotta tell you man, if I never get a recreation of that dance you did in a private setting, I may not be able to die a happy man.

Now it’s Derek’s turn to be completely taken aback. Did Mr. S just _flirt_ with him? He totally asked him on a date, right? That happened. Yeah, it did. Derek’s confident smile returns. This is something he can run with too.

“You get a few drinks in me, and my dancing will be a bit more limber than that.”

Mr. S smirks as he walks further into the room. “Is that a yes, then? You’ll come tonight?”

Derek raises one eyebrow. “I hope I’ll be coming more often than just tonight.”

Mr. S’s eyes go wide. He splutters into laughter. Derek’s grin could split his face. This banter, this thing between him and the librarian, is easy. Mr. S’s answering smile bolsters Derek’s confidence even more. He genuinely feels like he’s having fun for the first time in awhile. He takes a few steps closer to Mr. S, whose eyes flick down to the teacher’s lips. He places his hands on the other’s man hips, and Mr. S takes a step closer.

“If we’re going to date,” he starts, voice low, “I’m probably going to have to start calling you by your atrocious first name.”

Mr. S laughs again. “Stiles, just call me Stiles.” He rests his forehead against Derek’s, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. God, Derek is so gone.

“What the hell’s a ‘Stiles’?” he remarks weakly.

Mr. S—Stiles—chuckles again. “I can’t believe it,” he says suddenly. “I caught the hardest one of all. I really _am_ the very best!”

He looks so delighted that Derek can’t help that he leans forward and captures Stiles’s lips in a kiss. He can ask him what the hell he means later. For now, he’s content enough to be caught.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a really, really long time since I wrote fic of any kind, so please forgive me if it's a little rough. This was kind of a practice before NaNo starts, as well as a celebration of my favorite holiday featuring my favorite pair.
> 
> Feel free to come find me on [tumblr.](http://petalvelvet.tumblr.com/)


End file.
